


Decisions

by Seagoatink



Series: Navigator of Dangers [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Krem - Freeform, cullen rutherford - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seagoatink/pseuds/Seagoatink
Summary: It was not her choice to make, but in his absence she did. There was no apologizing for choosing to save what he made himself. The group could not live or thrive under the Qun. Like Sera, they were too individual, too unique. His Chargers were a vast group brought together under one merc banner, laughing all the while.





	Decisions

The Qunari dreadnought surely sank. A few bits and pieces here and there likely drifted to shore along with the bodies of the warriors who never saw the faces of their assailants.

Kaaras said nothing past clarifying The Iron Bull as himself, rather than this Hissrad from Par Vollen as Gatt called him.

There was no apology as they made their way back to camp. Varric and Vivienne trudged on in silence too as they made their way across the stony coast and it's rocky ravines.

Even the birds in their trees were still and quiet, like passive onlookers at an Orlesian theatre.

The Chargers, fully intact save some nicks and scratches, doubled back to meet their Captain. It wasn't a job well done, but a job well survived. They would be paid and they would live to fulfill other contracts.

Kaaras and Krem met eyes to exchange a look. He nodded her off with a hardly noticeable jerk of the head, which she readily complied. Her time was best spent managing her people, leaving Bull to manage his own. Or vice versa it seemed. 

“Cassandra, might you join us for some exploring?” The inquisitor called out. She had finished with the requisitions officer and felt she struck a bit of luck knowing needed resources were in the area.

The other warrior spared a glance at The Chargers and their Iron Bull as she stood, sword and shield in tow, to follow the Inquisitor. 

“You haven't spoken to him about it?” Cullen asked. He leaned against the war table with both hands in near firsts. 

Kaaras shook her head, noting the bags under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. All from lyrium withdrawals, no doubt. “There's nothing to say,” she replied coldly. 

“Our alliance with the Qunari could have been exactly what we needed to fight the Venatori-”

“The two have had their squabbles for centuries. I don't want to provide a foothold and have Kirkwall-esque incident,” argued Kaaras before Cullen could continue. “It was grim.” Both from personal experience and from Varric, she knew how the death of the Viscount occured. While the social climate was different from the current one, a repeat, no matter where, would be unavoidably bloody.

Cullen frowned, mulling over what she said. He nodded. There was nothing he could say to counter her point. Though one might argue he would prefer a Qunari invasion. He could slip right in, all the while mages would be well contained. The blood on his hands would be unforgivable. He pursed his lips at the hellish thought.

The room was as still as the coast was days ago as the advisors and the Inquisitor considered the truths at hand.

“A few of our sponsors will be pleased, I suppose,” Josephine finally said. The honest truth wasn't a happy truth, when it pointed it's eyes at blatant racism. But this was a special case, which was why she brought it up in the first place.

Kaaras narrowed her eyes at the castle piece on the war table that sat atop the Winter Palace. “Better than being stabbed on the spot.” She was not looking forward to Celene’s celebration at Halamshiral, but she was well prepared with much thanks to Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana. Now she would have less unfavorable decisions to be judged on.

“I thought you wanted to see more Qunari this far South,” Leliana said. She curled her hand under her chin and held fast as a gust of wind chilled the room and rattled a few leaves of paper.

“Of course I do, but my parents fled the Qun for a reason. My brother is Saarebas. It's not a pleasant life under the Qun, not for him,” she replied. Qunari in the form of Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth, Kaaras could work with. Qunari from the Qun? A devastating thought.

Again they contemplated everything on the literal and metaphorical table in silence. The wind howled. A few boards creaked.

“I filled a few more requisitions, but I would like scouts to look out for any lumber yards or mines. This place can't stay drafty forever.”

Kaaras sent Bull and his Chargers to Haven to uncover the dead. A sobering job that only a handful of recruits volunteered to join. She personally saw them off on their journey.

Bull and Krem sat side by side at the back of a cart chock full of supplies and firewood. Krem was bundled up and wearing his heavily padded armor. He grinned at Bull as they laughed at a joke from Dalish.

It was where he was meant to be, with the Chargers. Kaaras knew that for certain. 

When they returned from Haven, Kaaras greeted them from under a heavy coat. She was sickly, as was common, and fighting off sleep.

Despite her condition she met Bull in the tavern. Whatever Qunari beer he had left, she wanted it.

Krem noticed her enter from atop his chair and nodded her over to Bull's usual spot with a grin. “Lady Inquisitor,” he greeted Kaaras as she walked past. 

She coughed violently into the padded elbow of her fur-lined, leather coat. Kaaras greeted him with a silent, weak smile. Her throat was too destroyed now to do anything more than croak in a rather unflattering way. 

“Boss,” Bull said, lifting his chin.

“Bull,” Kaaras croaked.

He chuckled and stood to slap her on the back and pull her into a hug. It was rare that they showed affection in public, but this was an occasion.

“I'll pay for a cask if you give me more of that Qunari booze,” she told him as quietly as she could manage. With a damaged throat, Kaaras only had one volume, and that was just above her regular voice.

At the mention of Qunari, he grimaced for just a moment. It was only his eye that gave him away and the way he let out a little of his breath. “Drinks on the Inquisitor for the volunteers!” He shouted into the tavern.

His shout raised steins, cheers, and spirits.

Then Bull turned his attention back to the Inquisitor. “Head back to your room, I'll bring you the good stuff,” he whispered in her ear, letting the rumble of his voice reverberate against her body.

Kaaras hummed, droning out as she nearly tipped over. “I missed you,” she told him in a low raspy voice. Then she turned away and left the tavern for her room just as Bull instructed.

“Another cold, eh, Chief?” Krem chuckled. He playfully punched Bull's arm. “Go see her if you like, the boys and I can throw a party.”

When Bull did finally make the trek up the endless staircase to the Inquisitor’s room, he found her asleep. Her feet and legs rested on the corner landing and the rest of her body was positioned up the stairs as though she had been trying to crawl her way up the stairs. “Kadan,” he muttered, mostly to himself as he picked her up. 

He pursed his lips deep in thought. If only Tama could see him now. A traitor who had his eye fixed on a Vashoth. There was more to that statement than he wanted to unravel, but given his Ben-Hassrath training, he dissected it automatically.

It was too much. It would have been too much if it weren't for her. If it weren't for her, The Chargers would have been cornered and burnt to a crisp. The Iron Bull could have just been Hissrad. No more The Iron Bull. Just another soldier who could lie.

Gently, he placed Kaaras on her donated, Orlesian bed. For a moment, she stirred. Then she inhaled and exhaled a few deep breaths. She was waking up. 

Someone had been keeping the fire in the fireplace alive. Thick, warm curtains covered the large windows. Holes in the ceiling and walls had been patched up long ago, eliminating any chance of a draft sweeping away the warmth. The lamps at either side of the bed were lit, allowing Bull to navigate his way into the wine closet for a stein -donated by Fereldens. 

He returned to the bed as Kaaras sat up and groggily removed her jacket. She likely did not remember falling asleep on the stairs. “I missed you,” whispered Kaaras. 

“You asked for the good stuff, remember?” Bull said, avoiding her statement in favor of the task at hand. The conversation he wanted to have would have to wait until she felt better, he decided. It would not be fair to her to start that conversation now.

Kaaras nodded and took the drink from his hand. Liquid dripped down her face as she took as much into her mouth as she could and gulped it down. She sputtered for a moment, but recovered, more awake than before. “How was Haven?”

He grunted. “Less snow than before,” he answered. When she looked up at him with brows furrowed, Bull realized she was ready for the conversation he wanted to avoid. “The volunteers said there wasn’t enough booze to cover the sobering effect of the funeral pyre,” he answered. Then Bull filled his mouth with the Qunari beer.

Silence followed as they drank for the dead and for the sake of drinking. 

“Bull, are you angry with me?” Kaaras questioned. Her voice was solid, if only a little hoarse. While she was without a doubt tired, and sick beyond usual, she picked up on the small things. The avoidance, the short replies. 

He would be lying to himself if he said he had not noticed his own actions. He could tell himself he had not noticed her eyes follow him closely. But really, Bull knew Kaaras noticed. Bull frowned. “Are you going to apologize for the Dreadnaught?” He finally asked.

“No, I’m not going to apologize for saving The Chargers,” Kaaras answered. 

In that moment on the Storm Coast, she made the decision for them to retreat as Bull stood stock-still. To Gatt, it looked as though he were indifferent. It wasn’t his call to make. The Chargers were rightfully part of the Inquisition’s army, and he could not make a choice when the Inquisitor was right there to choose for him. But in reality, it truly was his call to make and he could not.

“Perhaps it’s a Southern notion, but to bury one’s child is a tragedy, Bull,” Kaaras said. Her voice held a sobering effect, much like the funeral pyres, though Bull did not need it. The Ben-Hassrath training kept him steady under all conditions. “To bury one’s parents is a fact of life, though.”

He did not move. Bull’s eye stayed trained on Kaaras. It was clear he was waiting for a fuller explanation. As complex as the situation was, it was important for the waters not to be muddled by assumptions and confusion.

“The Qun raised you, sculpted you; just as a parent would, I suppose,” said Kaaras. “But you built The Chargers, your children. You brought them together and they make you damn proud. If I were to lose something and my choices were something my faith wavered in and something I made, something that brought me joy and memories… That’s not a question.”

“That was not the question,” Bull argued.

“It was,” Kaaras iterated. “Your metaphorical parents, the Qun, or your metaphorical children, The Chargers. The Qun, which you have had questions of faith for so long that even your comrades have had to defend you, or The Chargers, the ones you would unwaveringly trust with your life.”

It was not her choice to make, but in his absence she did. There was no apologizing for choosing to save what he made himself. The group could not live or thrive under the Qun. Like Sera, they were too individual, too unique. His Chargers were a vast group brought together under one merc banner, laughing all the while.

They were family. Irreplaceable family.

“Kadan,” Bull said, “I missed you.”


End file.
